In the dark. Again. By the column in the old bar, Sheila a stunning woman of indeterminate age, stands just far enough away not to be bothered by the bartender or his customers. Being the residual of her encounters, Sheila wants the babes in the woods, innocents, to bring back what she lost long, long ago. And here they are, the new ones, tantalizing appetizers: The wispy red head with sad eyes, a beautiful lean body. The confident salesman on the prowl here in the bar, his closer's smile a tad too bright. The hooked up couple whose touch, cool and calculating, belies hollow enthusiasm.
As she focuses her intensity on them, they become satellites in the sun of her subtle but undeniable attention. One by one they notice the odd warmth, turn instinctively to that beguiling something felt but unseen, in the dark of the bar. Little movements, a step here, an adjustment there, edging closer, unconsciously, to the platinum-haired Sheila who is still, quiescent by the column, radiant. She is the moon to the ocean. Drawn near, they smile and laugh and do whatever to preen, to show off, to be noticed, to be selected--please.
Sheila smiles. It is all she needs to do. Just smile to gather the kittens, scampering and the puppy dogs, tails wagging.
Come home to mama Sheila thinks. I'm so hungry. She waits here in this yuppie bar in the mining-turned-arty town of Bisbee, Arizona. She has been here in town a long, long time. Small and cliquey, the town hardly remembers her, the traces are faint and to be found in the most unlikely places. The county recorder's office, for example, lists Sheila as the owner of Bisbee's oldest, now defunct whorehouse. The deed is older than the oldest resident, save one--its owner.
There is a problem in this overt stalking, though. She doesn't want to draw the unwanted attention and the clear memories of the unselected. How could she last so long in one place otherwise? She must winnow, even cull, and then send the right one on an unobtrusive search. She eases the attraction and moves away to mollify her unsuspecting devotees. Now she focuses a single intention and draws on an unruly instinct to push it forth: An electric impulse from eye to eye like some strange invisible sigh.
Across the room, Julie feels an unmistakable tingle and wonders, why now? What is this sexual urge when all I'm doing is idly looking at that curious woman by the column, who has somehow slipped away.
There she is! Just like that stepping out the door. I was going to that place by the Copper Queen anyway...
One to go, a take out bakery for a pretty muffin, her skin the glaze of snowy white butter cream, delicious to lick, Sheila thinks as she stops by a railing to adjust her shoe so that the pretty redhead can catchup.
"These hilly streets are hard on heels," Julie says as she comes near the silvery shinny-haired woman. She is a little surprised at her boldness. Usually, she is shy around strangers.
"I know," Sheila says. "It was just vanity to wear them." Then she reaches out and steadies herself by touching Julie's shoulder.
Julie is electrified; she holds onto Sheila's arm like a drowning swimmer, her body sinking. Suddenly both are shuddering, a chill rushing through them. The chill turns hot, like stepping from a cold shower into a hot tub.
"Ow!" Julie shouts, "You shocked me. Talk about static!" And she leans against Sheila to keep from falling.
She is trembling and then laughing. "Yeah, we could light up this town! I hope I didn't scare you," Sheila says and pats Julie's arm timidly. (To herself, Sheila adds, Like you scared me--why did I react this way to one of the innocents?)
Julie surprises herself by saying, "We should drink to the newfound lights of Bisbee?" And hopes the woman doesn't notice her blushing.
"Yes, we should! I'm Sheila..." Instead of squeezing her arm or shaking her hand, she leans into Julie and kisses her cheek lightly.
Julie trembles and says, "Nice to meet you, my name is Julie," and cannot resist the impulse to brush her fingertips against Sheila's cheek lingering at her chin as though she too were ready to kiss her.
"That's different, Sheila. I'm usually shy. Here I am acting like a lezz. Sorry..."
"No worries," Sheila says, "let's make it a funny start for great friends!" (Why would I say that?--it will surely be a very short friendship. Do friends really eat their friends!)
They walk up the hill in the dark. Ahead three shadows silhouetted by a streetlight turn onto their street and walk towards them. Men.
Sheila notices Julie tense. "Don't worry too much about them," Sheila says, and takes Julie's hand.
"They might tease us--or worst," Julie replies, but squeezes Sheila's hand tighter.
"We could get lucky," Sheila murmurs.
"What do you to mean?" Julie asks.
"I could use the exercise."
"If you say so," Julie says, surprised now at her own sanguine attitude. In fact, she is more excited now than afraid. There seems something unassailable, even invincible about the two of them, together, electric ladies of the night. She says it aloud, "Electric ladies of the night."
"I know," Sheila says, "I heard you the first time."
Julie stops walking and looks at her new friend. "That's weird 'cause I didn't say it out loud the first time. But now I can hear you thinking, This is more complicated - like you had a plan for us that has changed."
"You know what else, Sheila, I can even tell that you are resisting this change because it so surprising for, your term, an innocent like me."
Meanwhile the shadows turn into noisy, rowdy men in slouch hats, a sometimes sinister affectation of the town's bad boys.
"Hellooo there ladies," one of them leers, his voice filled with false cheer, threatening. "You two want some company?" he adds predictably.
"Nope cowboy," Sheila says pleasantly.
"Just cause you like her pretty tits, don't mean we can't too!" he says, moving toward them.
Later, Julie can't remember what possessed her to shift sideways and arc her leg, tilting her foot at an angle so as to strike effortlessly and cleanly break his jaw. Sheila stares at her in amazement and thinks, I thought I was tough!
Julie doesn't miss a beat, "You are girlfriend," she replies out loud, "I'd be running away madly without you."
The man with the broken jaw is moaning, slumped on the street. One of his friends pulls a small-caliber gun and raises his hand to point it at the girls. There is a blur and Julie hears the unmistakable crack of bones breaking (like a big wishbone snapping she thinks and then hears Sheila in her mind say, I wish you hadn't seen that).
No matter, Julie replies silently, you are my hero.
The final man runs past them.
Julie turns around and hugs Sheila and smiles coyly, "What are super girl friends for."
"You scare me," Sheila says. "I could probably have talked them out of any problems, you know."
"I know it now but not before, I just guess I was defending your honor." Julie says, thoughtfully.
"My honor? I don't have any."
"Yes, yes you do. Even if you do suck their blood," Julie says and stops and stares at her friend. "Is that what you want to do to me--too?"
The men on the ground are still groaning. The man with the broken hand is crawling toward a board beside the road: The persistence of testosterone.
Julie stares hard at Sheila and then kisses her on the mouth. "Feed on him, I can wait until you stop loving me. Jeez, what melodrama!"
Sheila begins to cry, "I don't get to know what love is..." Julie holds her tighter then and thinks, I can't believe I've fallen for someone who might break my heart and even kill me. A woman no less. Damn!
"You are so funny Julie!" Sheila says, wiping her eyes, as she casually reaches up to stop the board swinging down toward the back of her head. You don't have to watch this you know.
"Yes, I do." Julie says. "Friends don't let friends eat alone...yuk!"
Sheila turns to her meal and lifts the man's startled body like a rag doll. "I hope you don't run away after you see this but if you do I promise not come after you."
Julie smiles timidly and stays to watch as Sheila sinks her eye teeth into the squirming man's neck and silently feeds until he is still. Oddly, there is not much blood, a dribble here and there, not like the movies at all, she thinks.
Julie pulls her away from the man with broken jaw who has passed out. Don't be greedy girlfriend, she thinks.
Am I still? Sheila wonders and feels a warm sensation when she hears Julie's silent reply, Best friends for life - my life. And yours. Just don't be greedy and eat your friend...
Now Julie has a wad of tissues in her hand and is busy wiping Sheila's face to remove the traces of the man's blood, some of it pink from Shiela's tears, tears that won't stop.
"Let's go. Don't cry my pretty baby vampire." Julie says but not before she kisses Sheila again on lips that just a moment ago were red with someones blood. You could call that a commitment, Julie thinks. Sheila starts to smile and then she laughs. Her tears are gone now. She is happy to have a friend--finally.
They go to another bar. This one a relic of countless miners who worked here over the past 100 plus years. An ornamental tin ceiling and a thick wooden bar, old and gouged and battered, but strangely comforting: They both feel it--inviting, we've been here before, Julie thinks, knowing now that Sheila understands her without a word being spoken. She marvels at this weird intimacy.
I am older than this bar. I feel as nicked and used as it looks. If it weren't for the blood, I'd look exactly one of the old whores that worked here in it's hay-day. (Jez I hope I can block that ugly thought from my new friend, she thinks wistfully.)
Julie puts her hand on Sheila's and begins to gently stroke it, as though she were taking the hurt away from an injured child.-- Didn't work. I don't think you'll ever be an old whore. I love being your new friend, though! That is a very warm and comforting thought, girlfriend! Julie directs this thought at Sheila with a radiant smile. Then she sighs, her eyes misty, and leans over quickly to kiss the top of Sheila's hand.
"You're making me embarrassed," Sheila says out loud, some predator am I, she adds silently.
Well you're my favorite, and only predator! Won't you tell me how? (I'm not sure, I mean 'how' Sheila but you know I also don't ever want to lose you! Dumb thing to say since I've only known you for less than an hour!)
Ever is a really long time, but to tell the truth you had me when you kissed me and called me your baby vampire.
I called you my 'pretty' baby vampire. I think you just like the "pretty" part or you'd eat me alive like you wanted too before.
"I know," Sheila says, "now I'd rather die than hurt you--or let anyone else touch a hair on your sexy head."
"You probably already know what I want to ask, since you mentioned sexy," Julie sighs.
"You want to know about us in bed, doesn't take a mind reader to figure that out, miss squirmy, my hot little sex muffin. I don't need any special senses. I can feel your heat and even the ambrosia of how hot you are!"
"Well, don't embarrass me with facts, Vamp!" Julie says and is interrupted from her lustful thoughts by the bartender.
